


Dark magic

by meletes_muse



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/F, Harry Potter AU, MinisterforMagic!Helen, Ministry of Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 15:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12323991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meletes_muse/pseuds/meletes_muse
Summary: After meeting at Ashley’s quidditch match, Helen and Charlotte begin a tentative relationship.This is a follow up to, ‘At the Quidditch’, but it can also be read as a stand alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Sanctuary or Harry Potter.

Helen sighs, heavily, as she takes a seat at her desk. She’s still in her plum-coloured Chief Warlock robes, but she hasn’t the energy to go and change. What she really wants is a cup of tea. She reaches for her wand, flicking it softly to set in motion the complicated spell that will have a steaming pot sitting on her desk in the next twenty seconds or so. It’s taken her a long time to perfect it, as attested by several tea stains on the carpet, but she doesn’t like to disturb the house-elves at this time of night, and she’s pulled a lot of all nighters since she became Minister for Magic. At least now that Ashley’s at Hogwarts she doesn’t have to feel guilty about another late night.

 _Ashley_. She’s so independent now, and she hardly ever writes, though Helen sends an owl every week. She smiles faintly as she remembers Ashley’s latest letter (“ _Mom, please stop sending those healing salves. I’m fine, I swear. I didn’t even fall that far. Just a little scratch._”) Helen shakes her head at the memory; “just a little scratch,” was a deep gash along Ashley’s forearm. Apparently, she’d crashed into one of the stands during quidditch practice.

A faint buzzing from her desk drawer startles Helen out of her reverie. _What in the name of Merlin?_  Her fingers close carefully around the circular handle. It’s not hot, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. A number of recent incidents have certainly given her cause for caution. Helen takes a breath.  _One. Two._ She pulls the drawer open, wand poised to disarm whatever’s inside.

When she sees the contents of the drawer, though, she lets out a relieved bark of laughter. The source of the noise is a small mobile telephone that Charlotte had insisted on giving her. It looks entirely out of place amongst her spare quills and ink. Charlotte’s mother is Non-Magical, just as Helen’s was, and Helen knows Charlotte spent a lot of time with Muggles while growing up. Helen, on the other hand, has little experience with Muggle technology. Patricia Magnus had died when Helen was young, and she’d been raised almost entirely in the magical world. Unlike most witches and warlocks, she considers this to be something of a disadvantage. Helen does have some Muggle relatives, who she visits occasionally, but she always feels like an outsider. She’d loved her grandmother, but she’d died a number of years ago.

The device continues to vibrate, insistently, the name CHARLOTTE printed in bold across the flashing orange screen. Helen picks it up, carefully, pressing the small green symbol as Charlotte had shown her, and putting the device to her ear.

“Charlotte?”

“ _Hello, is this a good time?_ ”

Helen smiles, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

Charlotte favours her with a glorious laugh, “ _I know, right? I told you a cellphone would come in handy_.”

Helen feels herself relax. This is clearly a social call. She wonders if there’ll ever be a time when she doesn’t worry about Ashley.

“ _Are you still at work?_ ”

Helen sighs. “The Wizengamot’s taking up most of my time at the moment.”

“ _Oh, Helen,_ ” Charlotte immediately sympathises. She reads the news, of course, and she knows how worried Helen is about this recent spate of dark magic.

Helen’s voice wobbles traitorously, “I sent two more to Azkaban tonight. Five years, but still...”

She can’t help but wonder if there isn’t a better solution. The witches she condemned were truly dangerous, but surely there must be some alternative?

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Charlotte says, softly.

“No, I’m sorry, Charlotte,” Helen shakes her head. “You call me, and I... prattle on about my dreadful day. I didn’t mean to burden you.”

“ _Helen,_ ” Charlotte’s tone is firm, “ _It’s no problem. I want you to tell me these things. Not that I can help much, but —_ ”

“Just hearing your voice is a help.”

There’s a pause. Maybe that was too much.

When she speaks, Charlotte’s voice is hesitant, “ _I could call more often?_ ”

Helen swallows, “I’d like that.”

“ _Or_ ,” Charlotte’s voice takes on a teasing tone, “ _you could even call me once in a while_.”

“You make it sound like I’m incompetent,” Helen laughs.

“ _I know you’re very competent_ ,” Charlotte’s voice is low, suggestive. 

Helen draws in a breath, but just as she’s about to reply, there’s a knock at the door. James pops his head in without waiting for an answer. He quirks an eyebrow when he notices the device. Helen holds a finger up, indicating she’ll only be a minute.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” she says, “but something’s come up. I’ll...call you tomorrow?”

“ _I’d like that_.”

“Good. Well... I’ll talk to you then. Goodbye.”

“ _Bye_.”

Helen presses the little red button that ends the call, a small smile playing about her lips. When she looks up at James, he’s watching her curiously.

“Who was that?” James asks, taking a seat.

Helen sighs. “It’s personal, James.”

James is undeterred; he’s like a hippogriff with a bone sometimes. “Let me see...” he makes a show of thinking the matter over. “Charlotte...hmmmm...no one at the Ministry certainly...”

Helen cuts him off before he can make any outlandish suggestions. “If you must know, it was Charlotte Benoit.”

James’ eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“Charlotte Benoit? That young new rising star at Hogwarts?”

“Yes,” Helen shakes her head, “And before you say another word, James Watson, I know I’m too old for her.”

James affects an air of affront, “I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort.”

Helen eyes him sceptically.

“Truly, my dear, I’m pleased for you.”

Helen offers him a small smile, “Thank you, James.”

James lets the subject drop. Helen’s sure he’ll ply all the details out of her at some point, or Anthony will, over a glass of brandy in their comfortable sitting room.

“Is that a Muggle artefact?” He gestures at the device in her hand.

Helen nods, placing the small object on her desk in front of her. “A ‘mobile telephone’. It’s a communication device.”

“May I?”

Helen nods her assent.

“ _Merlin’s beard_ ,” James mutters, turning the plastic around in his hands. He looks up at Helen, “This allows you to _talk_ with another person?”

Helen shakes her head again; this is a conversation they’ve had often. “I know it surprises you, James, but Muggles are quite intelligent, you know.”

“But how in the world...” He peers closely at the seam on the back of the device.

“Ah, ah!” Helen holds up a finger, “No breaking my telephone.”

She holds out her hand, and James reluctantly hands back the device. 

Helen tuts, “I keep telling you, the Auror Office should work more closely with Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. Get some proper research done. This device is untraceable by magical means, you know.”

James sighs, “Perhaps you’re right.”

It’s what he says every time. Helen doesn’t push the issue. She just hopes that Declan can talk some sense into him sooner or later.

“I’m worried, James,” she says after a long pause, “We haven’t seen this much dark magic since —”

“Grindelwald,” James agrees, “but we’re doing what needs to be done.”

Helen lets out a breath, “I hope so, James. I truly hope so.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Helen glances around James and Anthony’s sitting room. Anthony’s been pestering her to come round for weeks’ now, and she’s finally allowed James to pry her out of the office for a late dinner. Despite the heavy antique furnture, the room’s comfortable, bathed in a warm glow from the gently crackling fire. It’s cosy and welcoming, much more so than Helen’s sleek but lonely West London flat. 

There’s a sudden frisson in the air, and Elsie, James and Anthony’s house elf, appears with pop. She bows as she hands Helen a glass of red wine from atop a silver tray, “Red wine, Dr Magnus, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Elsie,” Helen inclines her head. She grew up with house elves, but when her family’s elf died she never sought another one. Few in the wizarding community take the issue of elf welfare seriously, but Helen’s vehemently opposed to any kind of servitude.

At that moment, Anthony sweeps into the room. James’ partner is silver-haired and terribly handsome in his dark purple robes. “Helen,” he says as she stands to great him, drawing her into a firm embrace, “it’s good to see you, my dear. I was beginning to think you were never going to take James up on our offer.”

“I’m sorry, Anthony,” Helen gives him an apologetic look, as she settles back in her chair by the warm fire, “things have just been rather... difficult lately at the Ministry.”

Anthony sits on the couch opposite. “So I hear.” He takes his own glass from Elsie, who has once again appeared with a glass of dark, red wine. He nods at the elf, who bows.

“Dinner at 7pm, Mr Howard, Sir.”

“Thank you, Elsie.” She disappears with another pop.

Anthony turns his full attention back to Helen. “How are those darling children of yours?”

Helen smiles, Anthony’s always taken an interest in the kids. “Henry’s doing very well with his studies. Transfiguration, in particular, I believe. Even Minerva seems impressed.”

Anthony nods, he’s always gotten along well with Henry, always encouraged him, even before Helen asked him to be his godfather.

“And Ashley... well, I think she’s giving John the run around.” Helen sighs and sips her wine. It’s rich and full-bodied, and she relaxes back in her chair.

“Come now, Helen,” Anthony says with a knowing look, “don’t tell me you don’t feel at least a little bit smug.”

Helen favours him with a small smirk as she kicks off her heels and curls her legs up underneath herself. Dinner with Anthony and James always reminds her of their days as apprentices, though back then the dinners were considerably less grand, and quite a bit more raucous.

“In any case,” Anthony says, “Ashley comes by it honestly.” 

Helen’s about to reply - indignantly - when James walks into the room. He’s still wearing the Muggle clothes he wore for their jaunt through London earlier. No matter how much he grumbles about Muggle artefacts, he does enjoy a tweed suit, and he doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the fact that it’s at least fifty years’ out of fashion. Helen would never admit it to James, but she has a secret fascination with those glossy Muggles magazines, especially the fashion pages. She’s been meaning to investigate department stores for a while now. She would go with Charlotte, but she has a feeling that Charlotte hates shopping. Besides, this way she can surprise her with some new lingerie, and that is something her girlfriend _definitely_ likes, especially on Helen. 

James sits down next to Anthony, leaning in for a quick kiss. “How was your day, dear?”

“Oh, the usual. Another case of fraud at Gringotts.”

“Another one?” James’ raises an eyebrow.

“It makes me wonder why anyone would bother,” Helen muses, taking another sip of wine.

“Oh, it must be possible,” James says thoughtfully.

“This wizard certainly thought so,” Anthony nods, “but I’m afraid case law’s quite strict on this point. I’m hoping we’ll be able to reach a private arrangement with the bank.”

Helen chuckles, “I’m _sure_ it’s possible, but please, no attempts at impersonating a goblin, James, we’ve enough on our plate as it is.”

“It’s not the impersonation that would be a problem,” James muses, “it’s what happens once one’s inside. There are all manner of safeguards.”

“You sound like Nigel,” Helen says. “Have you heard from him lately?”

James shakes his head, “Anthony has, though.”

Anthony shoots James a look, and his expression is serious. “I gave him some... legal advice, but the less said about that the better, I’m afraid.”

Helen’s eyebrows shoot up. “Anthony —”

Anthony holds up a hand. “Helen, you know as well as I do that you of all people are better off not knowing.”

He’s right of course.

“Besides,” Anthony continues, “I remember the days when you and Nigel were thick as thieves.”

James snorts at Anthony’s choice of words.

Helen clucks her tongue, “Using Nigel’s cloak to sneak into the restricted section of the library is quite different from using it to break magical law.”

“Quite,” Anthony agrees with a smile, putting his glass down on the coffee table. “But tell me, Helen, about this new woman of yours.”

“Her name is _Charlotte_ ,” Helen corrects with a small smile, “and she’s a professor at Hogwarts — but you know that already, course.”

Anthony smiles. James has clearly been filling him in. But it feels nice to share this information with some of her oldest friends.

“She’s smart,” Helen continues, “ _very_ smart. She’s Canadian. She came here for her apprenticeship with McLaren” — Helen’s name dropping now, but Charlotte really is exceptional — “Her mother is Non-Magical. She’s tall, and quite beautiful, and for some reason, she seems to want to spend a lot of time with me.”

Helen lets out a sigh, “I’m rather taken with her, actually.”

“And what, my dear, is wrong with that?” Anthony gives her a fond look. “ _Helen_ , it’s time you found someone who’s good for you, and this Charlotte sounds like the perfect candidate.”

“And she’s good in bed,” James adds.

“ _James!_ ” Helen’s not sure whether to laugh or be affronted.

“What? You were positively glowing yesterday, my dear.”

Helen drains her wine. James has always been far too perceptive for his own good.

“John’s not happy, of course,” she says.

“John can eat dung,” James grouses. Anthony puts a soothing hand on his knee. John has always been a sore point between Helen and her oldest friend. Helen simply nods. She probably shouldn’t have mentioned her ex-husband.

“Well,” Anthony says, changing the subject, “I for one would like to meet your new _paramour_ , Helen. When can we expect you for dinner? Perhaps during the Christmas break?”

Helen smiles. “That would lovely.”

Once Anthony’s decided that he likes someone he’ll defend them to the death. And she’s sure he’ll like Charlotte. 

“Wonderful,” he says, getting up from his seat, “Shall we adjourn to the dining room?” 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte invites Helen round for lunch, but no lunch is eaten. 
> 
> Content notes: This chapter includes some BDSM elements (please see end notes for more detail)

“ _Wow_ ,” Charlotte husks, as Helen flops back on the pillow next to her. Helen turns her head to catch her lips in a passionate kiss and Charlotte moans, reaching down to squeeze Helen’s ass. Helen groans, wantonly pressing herself closer to her lover, skin on skin. When Helen breaks the kiss they’re both breathless again. Charlotte brushes a stand of hair off Helen’s face.

“Well,” Helen huffs out a laugh, “that certainly wasn’t what I was expecting when you invited me over for lunch.”

“Bad?” Charlotte teases.

“Certainly not.” Helen strokes Charlotte’s arm, before letting out a resigned sigh. “But I’m afraid I have to get back to the office. Not all of us can afford to be layabouts,” she adds in a teasing tone.

“It’s the Christmas holidays!” Charlotte pouts.

“Mmmm,” Helen says, leaning in for another kiss.

“Can’t you call in sick?” Charlotte murmurs when their lips part, her eyes half closed.

“I wish,” Helen strokes her arm. “Besides, I’m sure Professor Benoit would take a hard line on truancy?”

Charlotte opens her eyes, and they dance with mirth. “Oh, yes. I’d have to give you a detention and keep you here all day.”

“ _Scandalous_ ,” Helen whispers.

“Mmm, I can definitely think of some scandalous things I’d like to do to you.”

Helen groans again, capturing Charlotte’s hand as it begins exploring her breast. “I’m sorry, darling,” she leans in to give her a quick kiss, “but I really should get dressed.”

Charlotte sighs and stretches out languidly on the rumpled sheets as Helen moves to pick up her clothes. “Do you want to swing by after work?”

Helen looks at her gloriously naked girlfriend and sighs. “I’d love to, but I’ve got a committee meeting for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts working group.”

Charlotte stretches, “Did you talk to them about using cell phones?”

Helen nods. “Kingsley’s keen and so is Declan, but I think it’s going to take some work to convince the rest of the committee. Amending the regulations for the modification of Non-Magical technology is a big step, and there are some concerns about tracking in this particular case.”

Charlotte looks thoughtful. Helen’s sure that that brilliant mind of hers will come up with something. “What are you going to do this afternoon?”

“Work on that antidote, I suppose.”

That must be what’s brewing in the small cauldron in the kitchen. It smells wonderful, actually.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Charlotte asks, sitting up and reaching for her t-shirt. Helen feels a little punch of delight that Charlotte wants to see her again so soon.

“I have to drop Ashley off at her father’s. But after that, I’m all yours.”

“I could bring that potions’ book round for Henry?”

Helen smiles, “Henry’s spending the weekend at Molly’s, so we’ll be home alone.”

Charlotte grins, “Uh oh, watch out for the puking pastils.”

Helen clucks her tongue. “Honestly, the sooner they all focus on finding a proper career, the better.”

“I think a joke shop’s a great idea.”

“Tell me you didn’t tell Henry that?”

“Uh, no?” Charlotte tries.

“For the love of Merlin,” Helen mutters, shaking her head. “Henry should be putting his magic to good use, not spending all his time dreaming up parlour tricks.”

When she looks up at Charlotte, her girlfriend’s watching her with a smile.

“What?”

“I hate to say it, Helen, but you’re in danger of sounding terribly old-fashioned.”

Helen gives her a look, fixing her hair with a flick of her wand. “I’ll remind you you said that when you accidentally imbibe one of their love potions.”

Logically, she knows Charlotte’s right. But Henry’s shaping up to be an excellent wizard, and she’s worried he’ll waste his talent. He’s entitled to make his own choice, of course, but that doesn’t mean she won’t at least try to persuade him otherwise.

“Shall we go out for dinner tomorrow night?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Sure,” Charlotte smiles, “I know this great little Italian place in North London.”

“Muggle London?” Helen asks, sitting on the bed as she slides a sheer stocking up her right calf.

Charlotte chuckles quietly behind her. “Yes, Helen. Muggle London. You know, the only difference is the candles don’t float, right?”  
  
Helen turns, and raises an eyebrow. “You’re awfully cheeky today, Ms. Benoit.”

Charlotte’s lips twitch as she pulls the sheets up over her long legs and leans back into the pillow she’s propped up against the cast iron bed frame. “Perhaps it’s me who deserves a detention.” She shrugs. She’s terribly cute when she’s like this.

“Perhaps,” Helen flashes her a sultry smile, reaching for her blouse. _That’s certainly a thought_. Charlotte stretches her arms wide, each of her slender hands closing around the cast iron bed frame. Helen could fix her there, with just a flick of the wand. It’s not the first time she’s had the thought, either. Earlier, when Charlotte’s arms were stretched taught above her head, wrists crossed as her hands gripped the wrought iron, when her hips bucked frantically as Helen’s tongue dipped into her centre; then, a binding spell had whispered across Helen’s mind. _Just a flick of the wand_. But, then, she would never do it without Charlotte’s consent.

“Perhaps...” Helen stands, making her decision and picking up her wand. Charlotte watches intently as she leans forward, tracing a thin line down her lover’s forearm with the jet-black ebony - Charlotte’s breath hitches - “Perhaps I should fix you there.” She taps the tip of her wand lightly on her lover’s wrist, “would that teach you a lesson, do you think?”

Charlotte swallows, squirming slightly beneath the sheets. Her cheeks are a little flushed again. Helen smirks. She can play professor too, when she wants to. She raps her wand a little harder on Charlotte’s wrist. “Well, Ms. Benoit?”

“ _Oh, god, Helen, yes_.” Charlotte’s voice is husky.

This time it’s Helen who chuckles. _Perhaps work can wait just a little bit longer_. She moves to her lover, clad in only her blouse and stockings, and trails soft kisses down her neck. Charlotte groans, grip tightening around the bed frame. Helen pauses by her ear, nibbling slightly on her earlobe before whispering the incantation that sends invisible curling tendrils around Charlotte’s wrists and forearms.

“ _Oh, Helen_ ,” Charlotte whispers.

 _Just this once_ , Helen thinks, as her hands slide beneath her lover’s shirt and elicit a throaty moan, _just this once,_ _work will have to wait_.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: teacher/student role play, magical bondage.


End file.
